


Silent

by Manna



Series: The 7K Series [4]
Category: Blake's 7
Genre: F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-15
Updated: 2010-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-06 08:07:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manna/pseuds/Manna





	Silent

Cupping the smooth weight of the moondisk in her hands, Cally leaned on the desk. Its small voice whispered affectionate nothings. Nonsense. A scattered reflection of her own thoughts. If she listened for long enough, it sounded like her name. But it was precious. It was all she had, in her silence.

Cally couldn't imagine how the rest of the Liberator crew lived, always in silence, _and never knowing it_. Sometimes she was sure that the others _could_ hear her, all the time. That their silence was a horrible joke. She thought of them talking between themselves, laughing at her. She filed it away under 'paranoia' and tried not to think about it.

Auron was gone and they were all she had, beside the mindless comfort of the moondisk. They were her friends.

No. Three friends, one lover.

Avon rarely snapped at her as he did the others, but even so, when they were alone he still surprised her. Gentle and generous, inventive and thorough, he made love with the same focused concentration with which he did everything.

'This? And this?'

And she would say "Yes," and "More," and watch for his smile, quick and dazzling.

Sometimes, of course, it was "Not that," or "Not there," but even then she might catch the smile. Pleasure at another piece of the Cally-puzzle fitting into place, and he would move on.

Meticulous was the word that fitted his lovemaking, she had decided. A funny word, really. But very Avon.

Watching her face as he touched her, remembering what made her breath faster, and moan, and finally move under his hands, unable to stop herself, always, always wanting more.

More than he could give.

Because he was silent. Murmuring into her ear, crying out into the pillow beside her, it was only Avon's voice. Even when he came, so hard against her she felt they would never draw apart, it was only his body. She was still alone.

Without meaning to she called out to him, mind to mind, words, and wordless passion and that she loved him. She knew he must hear her, but he never permitted himself to show it. Was he afraid of her telepathy? Resentful? Did he know how incomplete she felt? Or was it just that there was no point saying anything because he could do nothing about it and some things are better not put into spoken words?

Things she could never know. Because he was silent.

Afterwards, she sometimes cried. Avon held her, kind, concerned, utterly unable to understand. In his eyes, she would catch a glimpse of the pain she couldn't feel from him.

Cally hated to think she could hurt him.

She hated that they had fought, really fought, about Auron, about Earth, and Shrinker and (think it in a whisper) Anna. After Albian she often wondered, feared, that he could be thinking of Anna when they made love.

Another thing she could never know.

She was jealous, yes. She admitted it freely, to herself at least. Who wouldn't be jealous of the impossible ideal that had been Anna Grant? Would he have given himself up to the Federation interrogators for her, Cally? Of course not. Only for Anna, perfect and incorruptible in her martyrdom. She had been so angry she had wanted never to touch him again.

'No, no, there's no-one else.'

Had Avon known she was there, when he said those words to Anna? Would it have made any difference if he had?

Cally imagined looking into Avon's mind, understanding him completely, knowing everything at last, however much it hurt. Imagined him looking back and finding her own hidden truth, her sick, secret rejoicing in Anna's so-spectacular fall from grace.

Sometimes, she was almost glad of the silence.

They hadn't spoken since Liberator left Earth. She wanted to go to him, because she couldn't bear the idea of Avon being alone. Something told her to wait until he came to her. Until, perhaps, he could be in control again. A feeling, nothing more. Grasping at vague intuitions in the dark. Avon would mock her for it. But this was how they had always lived, the rest of them.

How she would live now.

Silent, forever.

Cally looked down at the half-finished sketch on the table. Auron. Suddenly she wanted to forget everything. Questions, quarrels, losses, impossible silence.

She stripped slowly, completely. A ritual.

Cross-legged, she sat on the bed, leaning against the pillow, With one hand, she gently held the moondisk between her breasts. It whispered more loudly, echoing her anticipation. Her other hand was between her legs, stroking, rubbing, gently at first.

Cally kept her mind blank, concentrating on her body. Wetness on her finger tips. She tried to breathe slowly, regularly, until it was impossible and a breath caught in her throat in a soft whimper.

Opening up her thoughts, she began to pull them into her fantasy. Her friends. Blake, strong arms holding her from behind. Avon, breathing hard, heavy on top of her, deep inside her.

Lovers, past and present, imagined and real.

Vila, mischievous smile, quick clever fingers. Dayna, her dark skin a startling contrast to Jenna's pale beauty, both reaching out for her. Tarrant, passionate, his mouth demanding that she forget everything, just for now, just for him.

Her hand moved more quickly, urgently, and now she could even admit the dead with only a twinge of pain under the rising pleasure. Gan, a solid comfort to cling to. Her comrades from Saurian Major, the first humans she had loved.

And finally Zelda, beloved and loving, always a part of her and bringing with her all the memories of Auron. Of home. Of belonging, knowing, with every nerve in her body.

Images crowded her mind and the moondisk reflected them back in a fractured kaleidoscope which finally came close to filling the silence. She tightened her muscles, wanting the orgasm, reaching for it. Then, when she came, holding on to it for as long as she could, each contraction pushing her higher, no thoughts, no self, nothing but chaos and blissful noise.

Then it was finished. The wave that had carried her up washed back, leaving her stranded inside her own skin. She was only Cally again.

Cally.

Alone and silent.


End file.
